Of Fake Letters and Misunderstandings
by muffnbootz
Summary: Ichigo often spends time remembering the days before he first stepped foot inside of the Soul Society. About how little he knew. About Rukia. Inspired by Ellie Goulding's song 'Wish I Stayed'. -oneshot-


**No, sir, I do not own Bleach. The song 'Wish I Stayed' belongs to and is preformed by Ellie Goulding, not me. I suggest you listen to the Frankmusik version, it's lovely. :D**

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_Letters were all sent with no addresses  
So that people can't discover,  
Always undercover -  
Why do I always draw triangles,  
Instead of words this paper so deserves?_

_You see  
I don't own my clothes but I own my mind,  
And it's not what you've lost,  
But it's what you find._

_-Wish I Stayed, Ellie Goulding feat. Frankmusik_

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Ichigo often spends time remembering the days before he first stepped foot inside of the Soul Society. About how little he knew. About Rukia._  
_

There was a time when he honestly couldn't understand this strange little woman. She wasn't normal (though, what was even normal for him anymore?), and in more ways than one. But it hadn't been her old fashioned ideals or glaring attitude, contrasting strictly with her strangely childish side that she'd kept hidden behind a cleverly crafted façade of unfeeling words and eyes that had made her strange to him – that was her personality; why should he be the judge of it? Just as well, who was he to judge somebody for cynicism? He'd always been one heck of a cynic himself. It hadn't even been her 'death god' factor that had bothered him – after years of being haunted by lost spirits, you grow numb of any factor of surprise.

Rather, it was the sheer paranoia that he would watch fill her eyes; shining on her face when it overpowered her just enough to shatter her mask that she'd often forced herself to hide behind. During the day, she would act like her normal arrogant self, minus the few times he'd caught her looking around and behind her en route to the school or walking through town. He'd questioned her about it, but to no avail except for a few cleverly constructed insults, and it angered him. Her snide comments certainly played a role in pricking his fury, but it was mostly due to the feeling of helplessness he'd gain when he couldn't figure out what was wrong with her enough to coax out the truth.

The urge to hold her down and shake her until she spilled her guts out to him had been nearly overwhelming, but he knew that it would've gotten him nowhere. She was as hard headed as he was, and swift as well as deadly in her defense strategies. But the thing was, he hadn't wanted to tell her about his mother a week or so back at that time – he simply couldn't muster the courage to share something so sensitive to someone he had just gotten to know, and she had respected that need for privacy. He had owed it to her not to pry his way into her private business.

It didn't mean he had to like it, though.

But, at night, he would observe her movements and attitude changes. She was truly a kind person behind that hard shell of hers whenever she dropped it, (which often happened when she was too tired to care about what he thought), and she had a rare, genuine smile she'd send his way whenever he had drawn her away from her harried mind long enough for her to take a deep breath. But something had been bothering her constantly, and there were multiple signs that had screamed it out to him - the fearful look she had held in her eyes within the far off world of remembrance; the way she'd quickly rub her face over and over and give frustrated groans. The patter of her feet on the wood floors at night when she couldn't sleep and would quietly wander around the house until it exhausted her; the low whimpering he would hear coming from his closet either at night or while she would hide herself in it whenever she had grown fed up with his, Ichigo's, presence. But what had bothered him the most were her strange notes that, even though she'd claimed to be about him, wouldn't dare let him look at. However, it wouldn't keep him away forever, and somehow, he'd known she knew it, too. It was the only way that he could later explain why she'd let him get a hold of them so easily. She had been trying to wordlessly bring something to his attention.

It had been a warm night, towards the end of May. "What…" He'd craned his neck over towards his bed and leaned slightly in his office chair. "… are you doing?" He had rolled over closer to the edge of the bed, using his feet to propel him, and threw himself down onto his side to peek at the note pad that she'd forced him to buy for her ("It's the least you can do after leaving me helpless and dependent on you, you horrible person. I need something to write down our daily activities, to keep track of all of your actions and whatever issue you may cause. Yes, you cause problems. Don't give me that look."). Her left hand caught the side of his face, and she'd driven her nails deep. Shooting back, he'd smacked her hand. "Holy crap, Rukia! Really?" Rubbing his face, he'd glared fiercely, imagining a hole boring into the side of her head.

"It's none of your business."

Ichigo had continued to glare. "What's been up with you these past couple a' weeks?"

The green-colored pencil had ceased in its swift movement, and blue-black eyes met his. "What?"

Ichigo had felt the sudden tension strongly, and he could see it in the stress lines and the slight blue-green coloring under her eyes as the nervousness became more apparent in her face. Her spirit power, however slight it had been in her at that time, flared and sputtered back down in feeble protest, and in response, she coughed. Using her left hand to cover her mouth, the sudden heaving cough came, and her notepad had slipped out of her other hand and the pencil hit the floor. Falling into his full view, Ichigo had taken advantage of the situation, grabbing a hold of and scanning over the contents of the pink and blue pad. But what he had seen –

"Chappy? But wait, hold up, why did you scribble all over your notes?" he had questioned, bringing the notebook closer to his face to try and decode all the words she had seemingly tried to hide. They hadn't been notes, they were… letters? He could feel her glare burning a hole into his head. As he'd started to flip through each page, it had quickly slipped out from his hand, the bottom of the pad smacking him on the nose. "Stop it!" Rukia had yelped, an extra octave breaking past her guise and lifting itself in her voice.

"Why – yes, humor me with an answer, please – why did you put in all that hard work to write stupidly detailed letters only to screw it over with those crappy rabbit drawings? Not to mention, lie to me about it, you know." He stared at her, not unkindly, but with searching eyes – this had concerned him now, to a point where he couldn't just let her bare it herself anymore. She stood, looking around with infuriated and darting eyes, tiny feet rocking back and forth. He'd started to think. Maybe, he should be more vague.

"You've been acting all crazy paranoid since you've first been with me here. What are you so afraid of, Rukia?"

Her eyes slowly fell back to his. A sigh shook through her body, and nodded her head. Her feeble spirit power fell, to his relief. Calmness returned to his room.

"Consequences."

Ichigo sat up straighter. "Eh? You in trouble?"

A bitter smile reached across her face. "Yeah, a little."

"Because of me?"

She didn't answer. He sighed.

"With that Soul Society place?"

"Yes."

"So, that's who-"

"Those letters were for them, yes. They were meant to be sent to them, yes. They're who I've been watching for, yes. Has all of this has been what's bothering me? Yes." She moved to sit back down onto his bed, next to him. "I… just don't know what to write them. What to… tell them?" She turned to face him, her smile shrinking and becoming sadder. "And now, even though I know it's my duty to provide them with details and a description of my time here, I just…" _Don't want them to find me. To find you, _she'd finished in her mind.

"Well, I mean, you're supposed to be here, right?"

Rukia had to catch the humorless laugh before it exposed her through body language. "Yes. I'm supposed to be here." _If only you really understood_. She'd rubbed her head.

"So it's not like you'll get in a ton of trouble, then." _She's doing what's she been ordered to do, right? Even if it's through me?_

They had both sat in silence for a few moments; He, watching her, who's body slumped with the realization that she'd have to face facts one day soon. Her, realizing, but feeling as her body flooded with a silent, gasping relief from revealing her concerns, even if they'd been half lies.

"You regret it?"

She looked up at him, his face looming near. "Regret what?"

"Giving me your powers?"

Her eyes had crinkled softly, cheeks had flushed lightly. She had given him one of her rare genuine smiles.

"There are some things that I do regret about it. But, meeting you? Not at all."

His mouth had crooked into a relieved half smile. "Well, that's good. Why don't you try letting me know more about these things?"

Wriggling over and placing her back against his, she sighed for the hundredth time that night, but without the shake behind the breath. "Maybe. We'll see."


End file.
